


In The Shadow Of The Moon

by FunkyinFishnet



Series: Beneath Our Feet [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Loyalty, M/M, Male Slash, Nightmares, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 20:19:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fili wishes to find his place at King’s Landing, to be near Kili and to know more of Queen Daenerys to whom his brother has pledged so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, all my thanks go to quantumdoll for ensuring I got at least one of these worlds right. You're a star <3
> 
> **Warnings**  
>  Incest (see end notes for more details)

 

 

Fili laughed, falling to the sawdust and spitting out a mouthful of blood. But he did not let his opponent capitalise, instead he twisted and flowed back to his feet, a dagger sharp in each hand, ready to face his attacker. Mychal's surprise was clear in his eyes and Fili was able to take advantage, disarming him and pressing both blades in triumph against Mychal's throat.

 

“Yield.”

 

Mychal nodded, lowering his eyes. “I yield.”

 

Fili grinned and pulled away, stowing his long knives on his belt and offering a hand to the man of the Queensguard. It felt good to be fighting for sport again; too often it had been for his life these last few years. He pushed a braid out of his sweating face and took a deep breath, he had missed this. He smiled at the beads and metal ends that clinked as he moved, thinking of Kili by candlelight, weaving them in with secret Mountain words. There were many things he'd missed.

 

“I thank you, Master Durin,” Tyrion called to him from the small group observing the practice. “For proving to be as worthy with the blade as promised.”

 

Fili bowed neatly with spread arms, as a man definitely not wearing a white cloak handed Tyrion a small purse of coins with a muttered 'my Lord Hand.' Fili grinned – Tyrion had made a healthy profit on him, not that the Lannister needed such a win; he simply enjoyed a bet or two. Kili had been right about Tyrion, Lannister or not, he was more than decent company, with a tongue so sharp it would likely split wood and possessing great skill in twisting those who stood against him and against those he held close. Bofur would definitely appreciate him.

 

Mychal nodded at Fili and winced as he sheathed his sword. It had been a gruelling morning of swordwork, but Fili had been glad of it. He often needed a distraction whenever not at Kili's side. His brother was of course with the Queen as she met with lords and ladies and those who demanded her attention. Mopping up after a war was tiresome, Kili had told him, but everybody believed that the Queen should solve their troubles immediately. She had little time for rest, or for herself. She was never alone.

 

Fili spent a lot of time watching her, watching the one who had gained his brother's love and loyalty. It was due to her that Kili had not returned to the Lonely Mountain. Fili saw the fierceness in his brother’s eyes, the dedication to the Queen. He was immovable; none would get to her through him. In order to remain at his brother’s side, Fili had to learn the root of this, he had to understand.

 

His own experience of the slaver cities had been a relentless blur of pain and grief and constant fighting. He’d fought hard to work a passage to King’s Landing after hearing of the aid given by the throne to the House of Durin. He’d been mourning every moment of it, thinking of Kili. He’d dreamed of drowning.

 

“It’s safe to say you would be a fine addition to any household.” Tyrion had reached Fili’s side. “For your blade skills alone. What sort of rewards have you been offered in return for your services?”

 

Fili laughed. “Many, my Lord. Marriage to ladies of high birth, exalted positions, and a great deal of money.”

 

“So your worth has been weighed. And all hawks named and tallied?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Tyrion nodded and indicated for Fili to walk with him, leading them out of the hall and towards his tower. Several people bowed their heads in greeting as Tyrion passed. Fili kept his own smile hidden behind a serious deferential expression. He wasn’t stupid enough to think that since his brother had the ear and trust of the Queen, he would be spared should he behave dishonourably.

 

Once ensconced in the tower with drinks poured for them, Tyrion looked at him for a silent moment. Fili didn’t break his stare; so much of his future hung on this man.

 

“It must be strange, to be reunited with your brother once more only to find his heart loyal to another,” Tyrion said at last.

 

The words weren’t cruel, but matter-of-fact. Tyrion was continuing his enquiries, Fili quickly realised, thoroughly checking if Fili would ever be a danger to the Queen. It mattered little that Kili and Fili loved each other and pledged that such loyalty would last forever, if Fili held resentment deep in his heart, no matter how small a fragment, it could bring about ruin.

 

He nodded slowly. It did little good to lie to Tyrion, between himself and the lady Sansa, all things kept hidden were examined and drug into the light if deemed necessary. “Strange is too small a word for it, my Lord.”

 

Tyrion’s eyebrow arched. “So what provides the better fit?”

 

“Impossible,” Fili admitted. “Kili and I…we were the other half of each other from the moment he could run beside me. No one mattered more. And then, we were split without warning, and the news came that he had died…”

 

Fili took a deep drink of wine; it still pained him greatly to think of those particular days. Tyrion gave him a brief respectful moment before continuing.

 

“And you improbably reunite, only to discover that another has become so inseparable to him.”

 

Fili managed a smile. “I’m told there is a Dothraki word for what they share.”

 

“Several, I should imagine. Rest assured, Master Durin, despite what rumours have been poured into your ears, they are decidedly not fucking.”

 

Fili cracked a smile at that; he had been insistently told, sometimes several times a day, that the Queen was most definitely bedding the Captain of her Queensguard, that it was plain for all to see, that Kili’s loyalty had been swayed from the House of Durin and didn’t Fili wish to hurt those who had done such a thing? He had not believed most of them.

 

“If any would know, My Lord Hand…”

 

Tyrion laughed and drained his goblet. “I too have no word for what they share, as I was not in that shithole Mereen when your brother saved Her Majesty’s life. A life debt perhaps, a close friendship certainly, as close as one can be to whoever sits on the Iron Throne. Whatever it is, it will not disappear.”

 

He was being warned then, that if he stayed, any attempts he might make to split Kili from Daenerys would not end happily. Whilst Tyrion himself was threat enough, Fili had heard more disturbing stories about the Lady Sansa’s exploits. He found her endlessly direct stare unnerving, she gave the appearance of seeing everything he thought and weighing it thoroughly.

 

“I would not attempt such a foolish act. Admittedly, I thought on it upon our reunion, unsteady from seeing their eyes on each other.”

 

“Ah, what changed your mind?”

 

Fili swallowed more wine and thought of Kili’s expression when he spoke of Daenerys, earnest and fierce and utterly committed. It was not with the passion or texture of feeling he displayed when riding Fili’s lap. Kili loved Daenerys deeply, but he had no plans for her bed.

 

“I know my brother,” he replied simply. “I know when he wishes to bed somebody.”

 

“Not the Queen?”

 

“It is equal in strength of feeling, but different entirely in make-up.”

 

Tyrion smiled. “Congratulations, Master Durin, you have reached a conclusion that half the court still have not stumbled upon.”

 

Fili grinned. He’d heard many stories of the court and of the high-born squabbling that took place. Kili found it grating but kept his thoughts silent and his wits and eyes sharp. No matter what was said, he was there to protect the Queen and he took that duty seriously. Fili though briefly of the younger brother he’d known during childhood, who’d laughed and recklessly rejoiced in life even while Uncle Thorin had taught them that no one should rule the Mountain but a Durin and that few beyond its borders could be trusted. Kili still had that side of his nature, only he kept it hidden now behind his chamber door. Fili relished that he was gifted this part of Kili, though he mourned its loss in the open.

 

“No hawks have wended their way to you, of late?”

 

Fili shook his head at Tyrion’s question. “No, my Lord. I believe they realise now where my loyalty truly lies.”

 

“And that no amount of rumour will sway you. They breed you stubborn on the Mountain.”

 

Fili smirked; that was the honest truth. Tyrion smirked a little himself.

 

“I look forward to having you at my back, Master Durin. For the sport, if nothing else.”

 

‘Nothing else’ being Fili’s daggers at his side, a sword on his hip, and the Targaryen colours at his shoulders, his sharp Northern eyes keen on keeping the Queen’s Hand safe at all cost. It was a position Fili looked forward to applying himself to. He enjoyed Tyrion’s company and had seen first-hand how good the Lannister was at his work. Truly, few others could be as skilled, or perhaps as thorough. Tyrion and Sansa kept Daenerys secure on the throne, so maintaining fragile peace in Westeros. Fili could soon be part of that also; such a thought filled him with eagerness and pride.

 

Tyrion nodded at him, regretfully filling his own goblet once more. “Sadly, I must to my letters. A kingdom hangs so often on ink and sealing wax. Keep your ears to the walls and be prepared, it’s said that Jon Snow will return here very soon.”


	2. Chapter 2

Fili still sometimes dreamed of salt water high above his head, of pain wracking him as he clawed for the surface, and of scavengers eager for his bones. He dreamed of labouring in the slave city and of nights spent lying with a blade close by. He remembered all-too-clearly hands attempting to pull him apart, rancid breath on his face, laughter that cursed him without once invoking his family’s name.

 

Every time, he woke to Kili’s soothing touch, his mouth shaping words of the Mountain, the sharp harsh language that no one beyond the Mountain, not even other Northerners, knew. It was theirs. It made Kili real and Fili clung to him, pressing feverish lips to Kili’s skin, needing to be surrounded by him. Many of their nights were spent locked together, mouths gasping and bodies undulating in desperate neediness. It was equal in them both.

 

Kili blanketed his body and braided new stories into Fili’s hair. He used a blood-red bead and two the same white as his cloak. Fili scratched a possessive hand down Kili’s side.

 

“I would always be so marked, brother.”

 

Kili smirked with vicious teeth. “I hear you’ve been offered marriage, highly elevated and well positioned.”

 

Fili chuckled. “None accepted. I am already bound to you.”

 

Kili tugged hard at one of the braids. “Always.”

 

“Always.”

 

The silence reigned for a long spell before Fili let his curiosity form words. He needed to appear informed when in the Queen’s presence. “Tyrion says that Jon Snow returns soon.”

 

“It is known.” Kili smiled self-consciously at his own words. “Dothraki. Yes, he leaves the Wall soon, he and his brother.”

 

“Brother?”

 

“Aegon, who needs knocking down before he thinks of ascending to his Aunt’s throne. He has Daenerys’s silver quality and none of her garnered wisdom. Jon thinks he can be taught though, if he experiences a little of what Jon himself did.”

 

Fili arched an eyebrow; he’d been told of Jon Snow’s pre-Red Keep life as part of the Night’s Watch and all the harrowing dangers he had faced at the Wall. If anything would season a man, it would be that. The North was a cauldron for such things. Fili’s heart twisted as he thought of his home and of his family; so long they’d remained tortured memories, so convinced he’d been that he’d never lay eyes on them again. But a raven had been sent to and from the House of Durin, a message received from Thorin and Dis filled with fierce happiness and relief, Shala’s sentiments and Bilbo’s hand mixed in there also. It made something clench and also unwind deep inside Fili to think of those words; his family had treasured memories of him and were eager and impatient to greet him in person. They’d already begun the arduous journey to King’s Landing.

 

Kili’s hands in his hair brought Fili back to the present and he lurched upward to steal a kiss, to taste what was so familiar and beloved. Kili’s hands gentled for a moment. Their mouths were loud together in the silence.

 

“And how does Jon Snow feel about stories of his Queen’s Captain bedding her?” he asked against Kili’s lips.

 

Kili laughed and nipped almost playfully at his brother’s lower lip. “He watched me for several days after we first met. Then he asked about Mereen and I explained the ribbon in my hair. When rumour of his interest in Daenerys first blossomed, I warned him he would perish if he caused her pain.”

 

“They will marry?”

 

“It’s what Daenerys wishes.”

 

And what the Queen wanted, she would get. Fili had heard tales of her dragons. Kili had seen them and had been wide-eyed when talking of them. Fili wondered if he would be granted an audience. It was not something he’d ask the Queen however; he understood that she was protective, the Mother of Dragons. According to Kili, the Queen had suffered the loss of many she loved, so if Jon Snow made her happy, then Jon Snow she would have.

 

“I wish you knew each other better,” Kili’s words were more of a sigh than anything else and Fili rubbed thumbs against his brother’s hipbones. “She is…she is the Queen, I know, but she is still Daenerys, the girl in the Mereen tent who told me she had no want of me as a consort, but that rumours would forever claim that it was so.”

 

Fili couldn’t imagine the Queen saying that, but he had only ever known her as the Queen, so poised and banked. Kili knew her as a friend, and was bound to her by a shared experience that no other had true knowledge of. The way they looked on each other made something twinge inside Fili, he could not prevent that. He and Kili had long been possessive of each other, used to having the other’s undivided attention. Now Kili had Daenerys too and Fili was having trouble entirely adjusting to and accepting that. It was a comfortable loving bond; Daenerys and Kili clearly shared each other’s hearts and loyalty, despite their beloved bedmates. Was Jon Snow equally jealous of Kili?

 

“Can any truly know a Queen?” Fili wondered aloud.

 

Kili sank his teeth into Fili’s shoulder; he had always loved marking his brother. Fili had missed the pleasure-pain of it. He grasped a handful of Kili’s hair and tugged in encouragement. He would be as marked as was possible, for his own peace and for the Queen’s eyes.

 

*

 

Fili watched Daenerys whenever he encountered her. He was sure that it fuelled many rumours; Kili would likely have others followed if they watched the Queen so keenly. He could not help it; he wished to see under her skin, to see what Kili did. This girl, who seemed such a slip of a thing, silvery and white and black and red, yet she also had fire burning within her. She was no glacial maiden like the Lady Sansa, rather she was a powerfully-postured warrior queen in control of her every movement with a face kept masked at almost all times. How else could she command respect and ensure that her enemies did not gain a foothold? How else could she rule?

 

Fili was learning to read the subtleties of her mood though; how she burned with simmering fury whenever traitors were brought before her, and how she lit up when her nephews were mentioned. She was not an island, believing that her own wisdom was all that counted. She listened most to Tyrion and Sansa and even to Kili, a fact that did not sit well with the court, though she listened to her council daily.

 

She was determined to uphold Westeros. Perhaps she wished not to make the same mistakes her mad father had, perhaps she wished to remould the Targaryen name.

 

She watched him too and asked questions – of the Mountain, and of his time after the shipwreck. He was always scrupulously honest; she was the Queen and he had no wish to be banished or condemned, nor did he want the bond between his House and the Queen’s to be severed due to his own actions. Daenerys’s eyes scanned him whenever he spoke, listening and searching. She had his respect for that; she was truly ensuring that Kili was not harmed.

 

One day, while Tyrion spoke of his niece and nephew to Kili and the Lady Sansa, Daenerys inclined her head towards Fili, which Fili had learned was a summons. Daenerys disliked using too many words. She had lived a long time amongst the Dothraki, he remembered from Kili’s stories, and they were notorious for preferring action to all else. He appreciated that; those who lived on the Mountain were not ones for words over a sword in hand either.

 

“Thank you,” he ventured when he reached her chair, because it could not be said enough. “For allowing me to stay.”

 

“An uneasy thing for us both,” stated the Queen, her eyes calm. “Sharing one you treasure.”

 

Fili nodded; he’d found that the Queen appreciated his bare words, just as she appreciated Tyrion’s bawdy honesty and Sansa’s quiet but deadly incisiveness. There was much about the Queen that reminded Fili of the Mountain folk, odd since she was so far removed from the North. It was little wonder that a bond had been forged between her and Uncle Thorin; he appreciated plain-speaking people of action. Fili could see why she and Kili had bonded too, not only had Kili saved her life, she reminded him of home.

 

How odd that the Queen, who appreciated such qualities, was so mired in politics, where everything was double-talk and not as it first appeared. Perhaps that was why she’d triumphed, she had played the game best and knew when it was time to slice through political word-play and rumour, and favour a blade to the throat instead.

 

“Your King will share you with the Iron Throne,” he said softly. “It will take a great man indeed to share his woman with so many.”

 

Daenerys smiled suddenly, a bright fresh expression that Fili was sure hardly any got to witness. How few she could reveal it to, how frequently she was examined by those that populated the Keep and by those that visited it with greed and malice in their hearts. No wonder she relied so on Tyrion and Sansa.

 

“It will,” she acknowledged.

 

Fili pushed just a little more, because Kili had told him he should not hide himself with the Queen, because everybody else in her world did so, veiling themselves for their own ends. Daenerys had no family, except Aegon and Jon. Her mad father was dead, her brother too – who was also mad, it was said, and who had likely planned for his sister to be his queen - as were other men she had fiercely and wholly loved. No wonder she held tight to Kili, who had been a singular oasis of loyalty without expectation. No wonder Kili wanted to protect her above almost all else.

 

“I hear he returns soon.”

 

Daenerys smile sharpened just a little and Fili could see at once why she unnerved so many lordlings and ladies, and those who spoke darkly of Targaryen rule. Fili found that he liked that too.


	3. Chapter 3

Jon Snow arrived soon afterward, his brother at his side. Aegon did indeed possess his aunt’s long silver hair and highborn bearing, Fili noted, and the Targaryen nephew only nodded at Tyrion, Sansa, and Kili, likely having been brought up to see none as his equal. Fili stood a little way behind, simply clad in Durin colours, and split his attention between the royal reunion and the crowds who watched on eagerly. It was the perfect occasion for an assassination.

 

Daenerys greeted Jon Snow with warmth and a pleased edge to her otherwise masked expression. Snow himself wore all black, in deference to his former Night’s Watch position perhaps, but there was red lining to his cloak, bright for all to see. He was Targaryen now and he proclaimed so proudly. Yet Fili could clearly see the North in him too, the chill bred into his bones as it was in all who grew up there. Jon Snow appeared well-suited at Daenerys’s side, grounded and adoring and strong. He had learned battle and survival in a very different manner than his sister, Sansa, and unlike her, showed all emotion on his face and sleeve.

 

Tyrion motioned for Fili to join them as they entered the Keep once more, making for the hall where food was laid out. They would have to wait for a private reunion; Jon Snow had to give his report from the Wall and endure the questioning of the council. Fili stayed a half step or so behind the royal crowd, keeping pace with his brother. They were every inch protectors here and they would act so. It also provided Fili the chance to prove his worth, as well as the chance to closely admire his brother.

 

Daenerys sat upon the Iron Throne, her nephews seated either side of her. Kili took up position at her shoulder, all the better to see who watched the Queen, whilst Fili kept close to Tyrion. He was not officially the Hand’s protector yet but Tyrion had given him understanding that he could casually begin the role, to demonstrate the need for it. Fili would not put it past Tyrion to anonymously arrange an assassination attempt on his own life, in order to gain Fili the position.

 

Jon Snow kept his furred cloak on and spoke quietly to the Queen, who appeared very aware of his presence. Jon also included Kili in conversation, Fili noted, a fact very much in his favour. Tyrion was deftly avoiding definitely answering those around him who were persistent in attempting to discover if the Queen intended on marrying her nephew.

 

“I can swear truthfully that she has no plans to wed Aegon,” was one of his replies, with an amused casualness that distracted some from the iron core that he was allowing to show through in his eyes. He would not be revealing anything; likely one of the very reasons Daenerys had offered him the job of Hand.

 

“Ah, the Queen calls. My Lady?”

 

Noticing an imperceptible twitch of Daenerys’s fingers, Tyrion stood and offered his hand to his wife. Sansa placed her own in it without the slightest hesitation. Fili followed them as they approached the throne. He’d asked Kili how such an unusual coupling had come to pass, Kili had replied simply with a worn sadness.

 

“Cruelty, to begin with. Later, so Sansa tells me, it was one of the only things that made sense.”

 

Kili wasn’t holding information back from him, Fili had noted, he was merely revealing all he knew. For all their discovery of others’ secrets, Tyrion and Sansa closely guarded their own. Fili had heard that Sansa had killed a man, a man who had taken much from her. He could well believe it. They had lost a lot, why shouldn’t they cling to what happiness they had left? Fili’s gaze fastened to Kili; he certainly understood that.

 

And yet, Fili was told by Kili, people still occasionally tried to broach the subject of the unsuitable nature of the Lannister-Stark marriage during council meetings. So many wanted the prize of the Lady of the House of Stark, beautiful and beloved by the North, which therefore made her powerful and valuable in her own right, and so many also wanted to share in her closeness with the Queen.

 

The Queen always curtailed these discussions – Tyrion and Sansa were happy, and they were a strong weapon for the House of Targaryen and for the good of Westeros. Why would she break them apart?

 

“Master Fili.”

 

Jon Snow was calling for his attention. Keeping an eye on Tyrion as he and Sansa conversed with the Queen, Fili stepped forward. There was an openness to Jon Snow’s face that Fili found surprising, especially after the tragedy of the Starks and especially so close to the Iron Throne. Perhaps that was part of his appeal to Daenerys.

 

“Kili tells me you’ve returned recently from the slave cities.” At Fili’s nod, Jon Snow continued. “It must have been a shock, to find your brother so far South.”

 

Fili smiled easily, catching Kili’s eye, his brother smiling back. “A good surprise, my Lord. We thought each other dead. I was sure I was seeing ghosts.”

 

“Kili’s talked a lot of you, and he looks better for your presence.” A shadow slipped across Jon Snow’s face. “To lose a brother, it’s not a grief fully recovered from. I’m glad you’ve both had that pain lifted.”

 

Jon Snow had lost more than a brother though; he had also lost both parents. Fili dipped his head in gratitude for the consideration shown and he marvelled that this Northern man had retained such kindness despite his circumstances. Jon Snow was revealing more and more why Daenerys had so keenly missed him and why she so wanted him at her side.

 

Daenerys called on Jon for his attention and Fili fell back, his eyes returning to scanning the crowd. There was a man sticking to the back wall and talking to someone who was serving wine. A couple of ladies in pale gold were speaking with unusual intensity and darting hard glances towards Sansa. Fili neatly catalogued faces and appearances and important-looking gestures until Daenerys rose to leave. The whole room seemed to pause as she exited, Kili at her back and Jon Snow at her side.

 

Fili felt a sharp strange pain every time Kili left his presence, but it wasn’t enough to send him tumbling into his odd dreamings again, like those he’d felt trapped in when first reunited with his brother. Now, he knew Kili was near, he knew he was able to cover his brother’s back, he knew Kili was alive. It was enough to know that they’d share a bed that night.

 

“Come report your findings, Master Durin,” declared Tyrion, his wife still at his side. “And prepare yourself for your first council meeting.”

 

Council? Fili’s heartbeat picked up; this could mean something important, like the answer to a very particular prayer. Would he be officially announced as the Hand’s Guard?

 

He must have been smiling greatly, because Tyrion amusedly warned him not to wear a face like that before the council, lest they decide he was truly unsuited to such a role.

 

*

 

The moment he entered Kili’s quarters, Kili pressed him up against the wall. His white cloak must have been flung elsewhere, as now he was casually clad in only loose breeches and a looser shirt so unlaced that it revealed the dark hair of his chest. Fili eagerly responded to the mouth on his, licking at the seam of Kili’s lips and digging his fingers into the flesh of Kili’s behind. Kili’s broken groan was a wonderful thing. Fili had gone too long without it.

 

“We’ll never make up the time lost,” he muttered as Kili impatiently pawed his clothing aside.

 

“Never.”

 

They sweated and cursed together, in Westeron and the language of the Mountain. They sang each other’s praises and mouthed silent words on skin. All Fili could think was _I am not banished. I am not condemned. I am here. I am alive. And so is he._

 

Perhaps it was the quickness of his breathing or Kili stealing his air or perhaps the longed-for nearness of his brother, whatever it was, Fili felt delirious. Kili whined and slid fingers warm with oil between his brother’s legs, Fili turning and bending without complaint, his arms braced against the wall. The shape or form of fucking between them had never mattered, so long as it was satisfying. Fili clenched around his brother’s fingers, eyes closed at the feel of heated flesh behind him and the brush of hair at his back.

 

“And you wonder why I looked for no other…” Kili half-laughed. “How could I?”

 

Fili was saved from answering that by his brother removing fingers and inserting cock. It was to be frantic and raw between them that night, breaths panting, nails scoring flesh, hips thrusting hard. The stone at Fili’s arms was delicious – stone had always meant home, even Southern stone was enough of a balm. He arched as Kili gripped a handful of Fili’s golden braids, the sharp pain a perfect counterpoint to the pleasure building inside him. Kili had learned long ago what Fili needed. They could play each other’s bodies like instruments, like the weapons they felt born to bear.

 

Time had not diminished this; it had only turned their hunger into something more ravenous and feral.

 

Fili’s groans stuttered as he reached exquisitely-pleasured completion, his body sagging with sated bliss as Kili pressed harder still into him and groaned out his own pleasure. They stayed there for several moments, exhausted and happy and at peace. Their skin was marked; Fili revelled in the aches he could feel all over.

 

Kili kissed Fili’s back, tugged his braids once more, and drew out without ceremony, electing a moan from Fili. He glanced over his shoulder at Kili, at his naked brother, so comfortable in himself. Fili licked his lips; thank the gods Kili was on the Queen’s Guard, thank God none would marry him.

 

Eventually Fili straightened and stretched, relishing the protest of sore muscle and skin, and turned, only to feel a thick silkiness wrapped about his shoulders. Kili had playfully placed his white cloak around his lover.

 

Fili laughed, grasping the ornamental clasps and feeling pride once more at his brother’s place beside the Queen. “It doesn’t suit me.”

 

“That’s why tonight you’ll wear another cloak.” Kili’s eyes danced with excited happiness; in fact every part of him seemed to thrum with it. “Daenerys has declared it.”

 

Fili’s grin grew, his earlier interpretation of Tyrion’s words confirmed. “The council…?”

 

Kili nodded. “You will be presented and so declared as the Hand’s Guard, having proven your loyalty and worth so thoroughly in rooting out traitors and displaying your skills with a blade.”

 

They swallowed each other’s giddy laughter with lips, both grasping handfuls of the white cloak. Fili broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Kili’s. His heart felt so full of shaking joy, he was unsure he would be able to walk or stand up straight, a problem when going before such a prestigious crowd.

 

Yet, truly, the only one there who would matter would be Kili.

 

Fili breathed in that faint lingering note of the Lonely Mountain and the sweat he’d always been eager to cause. His hands began braiding nonsense pledges into Kili’s hair; the braids would soon disappear, as they always did in Kili’s hair, but the promises would remain.

 

He was a Durin, he was Kili’s, he would be the Hand’s Guard.

 

“Beneath our feet,” he breathed across Kili’s face.

 

*

 

A few of the council looked displeased at the notion of Fili of the House of Durin as the Hand’s Guard. Tyrion apologised that it was going to be that much more difficult to rid the Keep of him from now on. From the looks on some of the council’s face, it was not entirely a joke, and Tyrion knew it. There were always so many layers to his words – he was letting them know that he knew what they were planning.

 

Kili, for once, kept his eyes on his brother, who was dressed in the dark garb of a guardsman, an outfit arranged by Sansa who had apparently known enough in advance to order such a thing from her seamstress. Fili was not surprised. He was glad that he had worn red and black beads in his hair and beard; it showed the serious step he was taking.

 

He was now loyal to the Queen. He held Daenerys’s gaze as she summoned him forward to pledge himself to her service. For the Hand was hers and so was he now. Was he happy with Daenerys having such a prominent part in Kili’s life? Not completely, and he never would be. If Kili ever claimed he would be at peace with such a situation if their places were reversed, he was lying. He was as possessive as Fili, it was the Durin way. But Fili could also see the Queen’s worth, he could see why Kili wanted no other on the Iron Throne, he could see what Daenerys was striving to build.

 

Neither of them were likely to ever reach total peace with the other’s presence in Kili’s life, they would never lose the suspicion that the other was a danger, but they could now also respect each other. Fili could well understand how she had gained his brother’s fierce love. He could see himself growing to accept her with more than just duty in his heart. She was worthy of it. And he had Kili and she had Jon Snow. She and Kili were a different bonding, that none would ever break.

 

Therefore he took a knee before her, his gaze on her strong, showing her that he would use his strength in her name, but that he would not pause in using it against her should she ever hurt Kili. Her gaze silently told him the same, she was worthy of respect indeed. In Dothraki leather and with bells that seemed to form a circlet in her hair, her soon-to-be-husband dressed like a shadow beside her, she was an entirely singular kind of Queen. She was fit for the North.

 

When she leaned close to clasp the cloak to his shoulders, Fili could smell great fires burning.

 

_-the end_

**Author's Note:**

>  **Warning**  
>  Incest - Fili and Kili are brothers who arein a loving and explicitly sexual relationship.  
> Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow are aunt and nephew in a relationship.


End file.
